


stand by me

by Jinmukang



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Robin (Comics), Robin: Son of Batman (Comics)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Batfamily (DCU), Drabble Collection, Family Fluff, Fluff, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Hurt/Comfort, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:13:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24279400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinmukang/pseuds/Jinmukang
Summary: Just a place where I'm going to start putting the Batfamily centered drabbles I write on Tumblr.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 73





	1. Please just let me sleep already (Dick)

**Author's Note:**

> chestnutcats asked:  
> If you’re still in the mood for drabbles: “please just let me sleep already...” with Dick?
> 
> Warnings: implied drugging, but this one's actually quite fluffy

"Please just let me sleep already..." Dick mumbles, nothing really feeling like it belongs to him. Everything is one massive ball of whozy, and his head feels far away. It doesn't help that there's small hands poking and prodding him, accompanied by a child's voice.

"Stop being difficult," the child says. Dick can't clear his head enough to put a name and face to the voice, but he knows instantly that he trusts this voice. It sends pangs of warmth into his chest that screams with love and pride.

Oh. Oh yeah. It's Damian.

"Can you walk?" Damian asks and Dick blinks blinks blinks and tried to get his vision working. He smiles down at where he thinks Damian is regardless of that.

"Of course I can," he says. Or mumbles "Courz cn..." Instead. His mouth feels miles away. Just like his legs, but if Damian needs him to stand then he will stand.

It takes a moment, but eventually Damian tucks himself under Dick's arm and helps Dick stand up. By now, his vision is slightly clearer but his head isn't. He's in a white room. He was sitting in a chair? His wrists and ankles hurt. If only he can find where his body went off to. What happened?

He didn't realize he asked that out loud, but Damian responds as he begins to help Dick step by where's-my-feet step out of the room. "You're the one who was here for the last two days, you tell me."

Huh. Kidnapped then? Drugged? He doesn't know. Whatever happened, he's sure it doesn't matter too much because Damian is here and helping him down a long long long hallway, clutching his side almost like a hug, and it sends happy feel good butterflies into his stomach. He loves this kid. He really loves this kid.

"Stop rattling nonsense and walk, Richard," Damian hisses.

"I luv'yuuu!" Dick insists, and Damian does that cute little tt thing.

"If I respond in kind will you be quiet and walk?"

Dick nods. Or he thinks he does. Maybe just does a head flop. Where's his neck again?

"Fine. I... love you too, and I am happy you are still alive. Walk now."

Dick does as he's asked, feeling like a million bucks even though he keeps stumbling because he can't remember what the order of walking is. Right left right left right left... Left left right take it back now y'all-

Suddenly, there's more hands on him, and through his blurry vision he sees yet another little brother. "Timmy!"

"Costumes, 'Wing," Tim scolds, but there's a smile on his lips.

"Right," Dick agrees, because that makes sense. Tim doesn't normally wear a cape when they're not in costume. "M'tired."

"B is outside with the rest of the clan, we'll get you out of here. We got you now."

"m'good..." Dick can't find left or right or Cha Cha slide anywhere anymore. He's so tired, and Tim's here to help Damian drag his body out, hopefully his mind decides to follow along sometime soon. He closes his eyes, contentment settling somewhere inside him because while he can't for the life of him recall what's happened to him in the past two days, his family is here, and they're taking him home.


	2. You stood me up! (Dick & Jason)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:  
> Brotherly Nightwing and Red Hood, "You stood me up!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: none

"You stood me up!" Jason says, startling Dick from his faceplant session on his bed. "Geeze, you treat all your lady friends like this?"

Dick groans and looks at the clock, perhaps realizing that it's two hours past the time he told Jason he'd meet up with him so they can work together to take down an illegal gun bust at the docks. Not that Jason needed Dick or anything, but it _is_ in Blüdhaven and it's impolite to go into other people's cities and fight crime without permission or at least a head's up.

The muscles of Dick's bare back ripple as the older man begins to push himself up from his bed, apology already in his eyes. "M'sorry Jay, I lost track of time-"

"Yeah well, the tip was a flop, so it's not like there was anything to fight anyway," Jason says, rolling his eyes when the kicked puppy look of Dick's face doesn't leave. "I just came by to see what kept ya from our scheduled 'fight bad guys and dodge gunfire brotherly bonding' session. So what was it? Work?"

Dick winces.

"Woman trouble?"

A non-committal noise. Jason narrows his eyes.

"Man trouble?"

"Jay, it's just been a long day-"

"God, _all three_?"

"-and if you want I can be in my costume in just a second, and we can at least patrol-"

"I'm gonna stop you right there," Jason says, holdup up his finger and Dick shuts his jaw with a snap. "There's no way I'm going out to patrol with you lookin' dead on your feet like that, zombie man. You'll get us both killed."

Dick sighs, the bags under his eyes really need to be properly labeled and checked at the front gate please. When was the last time he slept? Or, his nose wrinkles, showered or ate.

"Jay-"

"Here's what I'm gonna do," Jason says, not letting Dick speak his usual nonsense. Whatever's been going on with the guy, it's been bad and taking a toll on him, and the last thing he needs is going out to get himself pathetically killed. "I'm kapoot and hungry, and since I'm here I'm going to steal your stove and make some grilled cheese and maybe hijack your TV while I'm at it and put on whatever is on the discovery channel this late at night. Come out and join me if you want. And you better have some tomato soup otherwise I'm suing you."

Dick chuckles, shoulders relaxing, clearly relieved that Jason's not going to make him go outside. Even vigilante's need a night off.

"Why would you sue me?"

Jason scoffs and heads outside Dick's bedroom, Dick trudging along like his ankles have weights but there's an amused smile on his face. "Grilled cheese without tomato soup is a crime against humanity. A war crime, if you will."

The tip wasn't a flop. Jason just felt worried after making easy work with those a-holes.

Though, what Dick doesn't know won't kill him.


	3. You know I care, right? (Jason)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:  
> "You know I care, right?" For Jason??

"You know I care, right?"

The question is asked quietly, hesitantly, almost as if Jason is afraid Tim's going to turn around and try to gouge his eyes out.

But Tim doesn't answer, just curls his knees in tighter and glares a bit harder into the forest surrounding the manor from where he's sitting on top of it.

Jason doesn't do or say anything for a awhile, and for a minute Tim almost thinks he gave up and went back inside, but then he hears the ruffling of clothes and feels the warmth of a body sitting down next to him. Jason swings his legs off the ledge for a moment, shoulders stiff and gaze straight ahead. He's just barely an inch away from Tim, close but not touching.

Tim ignores him. Just continues to glare.

A few tense moments pass, and Tim's almost tempted to stand up and stalk back into his room, but Jason decides to take that moment to open his mouth.

"It's okay to mourn him, ya know?"

No. No Tim doesn't want to talk about this. He changes his glare towards Jason. "Why are you bothering? You hate me."

Jason winces and runs a hand through his hair, the white shock mixing with his dark brown hair for a moment. "I don't... I don't hate you-"

"Two broken ribs, one cracked, a snapped wrist, broken nose, black eye, if I had ten minutes I can list all the bruising-"

"I know, alright?!" Jason snaps, cutting Tim off from listing every single injury Jason gave him all those years ago in the Titans tower. Tim knows it's childish to being that up now, but he wants Jason to go away. He doesn't want to talk about today. He just... doesn't.

But then Jason surprises Tim by plowing onward.

"I'm sorry, kay? I was a jerk and a really... really bad guy back then and you didn't deserve me taking my frustration out on you. You're a smart kid, and snarky, and confident, and I was threatened by that. I still am, but that doesn't mean I don't care enough about you now to tell you it's okay to mourn-"

"Shut up!" Tim snaps, covering his ears, tears pin pricking his eyes. Because of Jason's shocking apology that Tim had long since forgiven him for. Because it's father's day. Because it's yet another father's day with Jack Drake dead. Because it's hitting him harder this year for some reason and he hates it-

Jason continues talking, and Tim can't press on his ears hard enough to completely muffle the sound.

"Your dad was an ass, sure he was better near the end of it but that doesn't make up for the years of emotional neglect and abuse, and you feel like you should be happy today because everyone's celebrating B and Alfie, but you miss your asshole of a dad and that's okay."

"What do you know?!" Tim snarls throwing his hands down and clenching them at his sides.

And then Jason raises his eyebrow, and Tim swallows, his stomach dropping and all his anger simmering.

Oh.

"Do... Do you ever miss him... too?"

Jason gives him a sad look before sighing. "Every father's day. Every death day. I miss him. Even if he's a piece of trash and he's done not a single thing to ever show he wanted me around besides pickpocketing a couple of circus tickets one time. Because at the end of the day, Willis Todd was my dad and he raised me, even if he was shit at it. That's why I'm saying, even if he was an an abusive scum bag, it's okay to miss your dad. It's just you mourning the man he should have been."

And the tears burst, and Tim can't stop himself from flinging himself forward, wrapping his arms around Jason's waist before he can think about how Jason would react.

Jason doesn't react. Goes stock still, and Tim can't stop himself from letting a sob tear his throat. Then hands wrap slowly and unsure around his back, fingers rub circles between his shoulder blades.

"It will be easier," Jason says above Tim's head, his voice choked. Tim isn't sure who he's reassuring.

But either way, Tim instantly feels just a little better.


	4. It wasn't supposed to be this way (Mar'i Grayson)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> annavanpie asked:  
> Idk how much you’re a fan of her, but possibly Mar’i Grayson? And I need a sentence so... “She wasn’t expecting this to happen; it wasn’t supposed to be this way.” I’m a little cheating haha, but again idk what your feelings on Mar’i are, though I’d love to see what you do with her!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: creepy men being pushy, ie: catcalling and being irredeemable trash

She wasn't expecting this to happen; it wasn't supposed to be this way.

Or really, Mar'i hadn't meant to travel back in time again. The first time was purely to save the world and stop evil, her father and mother was never meant to figure out that they were... Well... Her parents.

That didn't go all to plan, but when she returned to her time with the rest of her team to find the world hadn't changed drastically because of paradoxes, she brushed that all under the table, prepared to go the rest of her life with the precious memory of her parents in their youth.

She really, really hadn't meant to come back, time and space altering supervillains aside.

But here she is, emerging into a grimy alleyway in the flash of a bright light, stumbling on trash. Her stomachs roll, causing her to bend over and take heaving breaths to calm her nausea. It was just chance that her eyes landed on the newspaper abandoned on the grime and rainwater littered street, but it wasn't chance when she bent down and got a closer look at the date with widening eyes.

It's dated _decades_ before her birth. The newspaper is a Blüdhaven printer.

She needs to leave here, and quickly.

Hovever, she finds it's easier said than done. Just walking through the lesser used streets is catching all kinds of attention. Men whistling and catcalling from the shadows, women staring like they want her for something, people of all kinds saying terrible things about her state of dress. Or undress, as most humans see it. She's inherited her mother's love for showing skin, and her father's love of any clothing present being tight. It's so much easier to move and fight in, but here where no one knows her, people think she's asking for something vile.

She could just fly, she thinks. Zip upwards and away, leaving nothing but a trail of purple fire behind her, and find a way home on her own; away from this rotten city and away... away from a man she wishes to perhaps see but doesn't want to be seen by. But she can't, flying in a city unused to Meta's and otherworldly powers would immediately call for suspicion. More people would see her flying than wondering the streets of the city anyway.

Oh dear. Time travel is so messy.

Of course, everything must go wrong sometime, doesn't it? When a man finally touches her, whispering about _beds_ and _positions_ and _hands_ and other nasty things she doesn't want to think about, she thinks this is when it all goes downhill.

She does not wish to be touched by this man. She does not wish to bed with him. He has friends behind him too, muttering about turns and who gets to strip off what's left of her suit, and she thinks she cannot leave this with a simple _no thank you._

So she does what she's been taught to do since she was young enough to ask her father about how he flies.

She fights.

She grabs the man's hand and spins, twisting his arm behind his back and then kicking out at the back of his knees and forcing him to pathetically sprawl against the ground, dislocating his shoulder in the process. He screams in pain and she drops his wrist, glaring at the rest of his friends, and not for the first time in her life does she wish Blüdhaven was a normal city. Normal cities would have the rest of them running when they find their target can fight back. But not this one, in this one, they charge forward, their ugly yellow teeth glinting in the lamplight.

The closest makes a mad grasp for her chest, and she shoves the palm of her hand upwards under his jaw hard enough to have him seeing stars for the rest of the night. Another throws a punch at her face, but she easily dodges and flips out of the way, a move her father was all too ecstatic to show her, and knocks his legs out from under him. It's all pathetic. She wishes they would turn and run; leave her alone already so she can figure out how to get home.

But they keep trying, and she's almost considering bringing out the big guns. And by that, the other half of her DNA. Her mother's powers.

But then something black and blue swings through the air, knocking against the temple of one of her attackers with thinly booted feet and instantly causing him to fall into unconsciousness.

When the newcomer lands in the alleyway and fights the rest of them with practiced ease, she wonders if she should run. Well, she knows she should run. But she's enchanted.

He's wearing a different suit than the one she saw on him last time. Black and tight with a single stripe of blue across his chest that reaches towards his fingertips. One of his best suits in histories opinion. Though her father disagrees, he always loved his first one the most, because it worked with the mullet.

The fight is over in seconds, and she realizes it's too late to do a single thing when he turns towards her with his eyes blown wide behind his domino mask.

"It's you," Nightwing... Her father breathes.

And she really, really wasn't planning on this happening. But she smiles at him anyway; waves a hand. "Hi, dad."


	5. He didn't mean to murder you! (Damian)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:  
> Damion and that one comic strip from the moomins, the dialog goes like: "Oh, he didn't mean to murder you." "Oh yes I did!" Or something like that, no pressure and ilysm

"Oh, I'm sure he didn't mean to murder you," Dick says, placing a calming hand on Tim's shoulder, but the action quickly goes ignored when Damian scoffs and crosses his arms in front of his chest, tilting his nose up to look down at the rest of the family.

"Oh, yes I did!" He announces proudly, and Tim gives Bruce a wide-eyed look that screams _I told you so_.

Stephanie sighs from her position on the couch, leaning against a very amused looking Cassandra. "Guys, it's just a game-"

"Tim, we killed you in the first round, how would have Damian purposely murdered you when we all voted you out?" Dick asks.

"Because he _just_ said he knew the whole time Jason was the murderer! And he was the one who raised suspicion against me in the first place!"

Sitting cross-legged against the coffee table, Jason speaks up. "You guys are all ignoring the fact that I killed you all and won, you know? Like. None of you guessed-"

"Except _Damian_!" Tim stresses.

"He was easy to guess out," Damian huffs, waving his hand, "I heard him giggle when Cassandra was choosing the murderer."

Bruce supposes could be true. Damian is sitting closest to Jason after all, and in a game of murder, only Jason would giggle at the task of killing off the entire family.

"This is just because you're upset I killed you in the last round!" Tim shouts.

"Absolutely not!" Damian argues back, and Bruce shoots Dick the most tired look he can manage.

"Why did you suggest Murder for family game night?"

Dick looks at Tim and Damian argue louder with each other as Jason continues to loudly brag that he won anyway with a far off glint in his eyes. "I don't know, Bruce. I just don't know."


	6. And how is that supposed to be my fault?! (Dick)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:  
> forgive me, but i know nothing of DC. HOWEVER, i hope you can make something out of this diolauge prompt. "And how is that supposed to be /my/ fault?" w/ Dick Grayson

"And how is that supposed to be _my_ fault?!"

Duke almost drops his glass of juice when the sound of yelling suddenly erupts from further down the hallway, which would be a problem because technically anything that isn't water isn't allowed outside the kitchen or dining room, and Duke has been on good graces with Alfred so far despite his occasional habit of sneaking treats into his room.

The voice belongs to Dick, which shocks Duke for a number of reasons. Mostly because he didn't even know Dick was in town, but also because even while he hasn't actually had that many conversations with the older man, he's never heard Dick raise his voice like that.

Not once.

Curious and feeling a little like an eavesdropper, Duke creeps forward and leans his head against the door belonging to Bruce's study, where the shouting is coming from.

"Your lead was wrong, Dick," Bruce says on the other side of the door, sounding one bad vibe away from snapping. He sounds almost like a pissed off Batman. In his own house. To his eldest son. "The bust was on the other side of town-"

Duke has to fight from flinching when he hears something crash from the inside.

"I _just_ gave you what he told me!"

"You need to be more thorough-"

"No, fuck you! You could have looked into it too-"

"I will not speak when you when you raise your voice-"

Crash. "YOU DON'T _EVER_ FUCKING _TALK_ -"

A hand falls on Duke's shoulder and he almost jumps out of his skin. He manages to hold back an undignified yelp when he turns around to find Alfred looking down at him with a frown that reaches his eyebrows. "Master Duke, perhaps you'd like to join me for some tea?"

It's not tea time as far as Duke's aware, and he's still holding his cup of juice (which Alfred is staring at with a sharp eye), but there's another crash in the room and Bruce is yelling now and it makes Duke want to turn tail and book it out of the house and crawl up a tree somewhere. So, he nods, and Alfred smiles tightly, squeezing his shoulder in a friendly way as he leads him away from the door.

Once they're a good distance away and the shouting has become muffled, Duke finally works up the courage to talk. "Does it always... Uh..."

Alfred's lips twitch, but his eyes look so sad and so far away. "It's not as bad as it used to be. Master Dick has a temper and Master Bruce isn't good with communication. They clash violently from time to time, but they're working on it. Rest assured I will be speaking with the both of them thoroughly when they've both cooled off."

Duke nods and they end up in the dining room, where Alfred takes his cup of juice and replaces it with a steaming cup of tea, as if Alfred had already predicted the argument happening and Duke being startled by it.

Alfred sits across the table and takes a long sip of his own cup. Duke follows suit and instantly finds himself relaxing, tensed up muscles he didn't know he had bunched up unravelling like a loose string in a knitted scarf.

And just like that, an hour passes, and Duke's in his room with his headphones on and studying for an essay that's due in three days, when there's a light knock on his door. He pulls out a headphone and and calls _come in_ with only a touch of nervousness.

The door opens, and Duke sees three faces. One belonging to a tired looking Dick with red-rimmed eyes, one belonging to a Bruce who looks twice his age with shoulders slumped lower than what Duke's ever seen on him, and the last belonging to a stern and victorious looking Alfred.

The first two look apologetic, but Duke almost feels sorry for them if the talking to they got was anything he received when Alfred casually reminded him about _juice_ and _inside the kitchen_. By the looks of it, they definitely got _worse_ , so he decides he already forgives them before the first sorry is even uttered.


	7. Can't I be enough? (Dick)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sassydefendorflower asked:  
> If you are interested for your drabble ask: Dick Grayson and the Sentence "Can't I be enough? Why am I never enough?" and angsty if you are in the mood! I love your writing!

"Can't I be enough? Why am I never enough?"

He asks it like his empty apartment would answer him. Like the shadows would morph and come together to form the shape of a broad shouldered man with pointed bat ears. He huffs out a lungful of air, pulling out his phone and rolling eyes at himself.

"Not even nine yet. Aaand I'm talking to myself."

Pathetic.

He slams the phone down on the sofa next to him and glares at a random wall in his lonely apartment that no one bothers to visit. The events of the night before run over and over in his mind with every blink. The fire, the bomb, his shaking hands as he realized he didn't know how to disarm this one. The thin arms shoving him away so Red Robin could do it himself in record time. Batman's scolding that his rusty bomb diffusing skills could have gotten them all killed. Robin's tense shoulders as he must have realized that maybe his big brother maybe really is the idiot everyone says he is.

The looks he got from every single one of them when they got back to the cave still curls his toes, all just because Dick couldn't diffuse a bomb but Tim could. Tim, the boy genius? The guy who can out riddle the Riddler on 2 hours of sleep and a cement-truck load of coffee? No, Dick's the older brother. The _eldest_ brother. He's supposed to know everything and know how to solve every single problem he stumbles upon.

The thoughts bring up bad feelings he hasn't felt since the first time he saw Jason wearing his colors all those years ago.

And Dick sighs, looks at his phone again, and decides Blüdhaven could do with Nightwing making an appearance earlier than normal tonight. His fists are aching to punch something, and he really doesn't feel like being bubbly golden child Dick Grayson anymore today.


	8. Did I just see you do that? (Jason)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:  
> Idk a character but "did I just see you do that?/did you really just do that?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Sandwich crimes

"Did I just see you do that?"

Damain has the audacity to glare up from the counter like what Jason just saw wasn't blasphemy.

"Do what?" Damian snaps.

Jason sighs in response and pushes himself up from where's he's been leaning against the fridge, folding his arms across his chest. "You put peanut butter on both sides."

Damain's eyebrows scrunch together as he glances back at the two now _violated_ slices of bread, butter knife still in hand with the evidence of the sin that has just taken place. Jason walks besides him when he doesn't answer for his crimes and shoves him out of the way, knowing it now falls on him to fix this mess. If Alfred came in and saw Damian putting peanutbutter on both slices of bread... God it would kill him.

"Let me show you how to make an _actual_ pb&j," he says, yoinking the knife from Damian's grubby little claws, and the kid responds with a growl of outrage.

"I know how to make a sandwich, Todd," Damian hisses and Jason scoffs, wiping the knife off on a blank slice of bread so he can dip it into the jar of raspberry preserves.

"Yeah, uh-huh. And who told you _this_ -" he waves dramatically at Damian's terrible work with the knife, dropping some of the jam onto the counter, "was how you made a sandwich?"

"Richard said-"

Jason scoffs again. That explains it. " _Richard_ isn't allowed ten feet within a microwave, you think he knows how to make a sandwich?"

Damian scowls, reluctant understanding flashing across his face. Victory for Jason.

"Watch and learn kid. You put the peanutbutter on _one_ side and then jelly on the other." He scoops out a good two knife-fulls of raspberry flavored goodness and piles it onto the other slice. He then squishes it and one of Damian's pieces together and then drops it onto a napkin. "See? Any other way has a 70% chance of killing you."

"That's rediculous," Damian huffs, but he still takes the sandwich when Jason offers it to him. Jason smiles victoriously and turns around to heap another helping of jelly on another slice, to make a sandwich for himself. "But I will be sure to inform Richard of his misinformed ways."

"Yeah kid," Jason says, taking a bite of his sandwich with one hand and ruffling Damian's hand with the other. Damian squawks and bats his hand away. "You do that."

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at @jinmukangwrites on tumblr!


End file.
